Mid-afternoon and the world pauses;
sure nobody is looking, she loosens her girdle
and sighs: The afternoon breeze;
neither fresh nor cool, moves.
The birds doze; the dogs wash;
The old folks dream of morning,
creaking in wicker.

Mid-afternoon and the world pauses;
the cusp of pendulum between
late lunch and early dinner,
the air scented with soured coffee
and dried sandwich crumbs.

Too far along to change my course,
I wait for the day to recommence
so I can see it through.  Too early
now to finish; too late now to stop.

Mid-afternoon and the earth pauses;
lizards snooze and wait for quickness
to soak in.